OC Scrapbook
by Jimmy Collins
Summary: This is the place to look for previews, poems, character monologues, and whatever else for the rest of my artistic endeavours.  Also, it's the place I'll post when I'm not ready to post the first chapter of my newest story.  Intended as a companion work.
1. Roses

**A/N: Apologies for not posting yesterday and the day before. I'm not proud of what happened on Saturday, but there was a long-distance phone call involved, and a rather offensive batch of cake-mix involved, the practical result of which is that I ended up unfortunately and absolutely, to be crude, pissed. So, on Friday, I wanted to post this, but I was rather hung over, and, anyways, the document manager wasn't working. Of note: I did not write this. Thank someone known only as TheBroadE for this. More at the bottom. **

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><p>"Hey," Cory poked his head in the door to Adrian's office. "Remember those tickets I won? Well, the wife doesn't want to go. You in?"<p>

Adrian smiled. Cory was a good friend. "Sorry, buddy. I got a date."

"Wha-" Cory started. "Oh. OOOOh, oh, right. Hey, it's March already?"

"Yep. The second."

"Oh. Ok. Gotcha." He winked and turned to go out the door. "Have a great time."

"You too."

Adrian got up and packed his things into his backpack. He checked to see if there was anything he was leaving behind. There wasn't, so he walked out the door, reaching back in to switch off the light. Never waste electricity, he smiled to himself. Someone special told him that, the first time they met. He let the door swing shut and headed for the elevator. He'd always liked elevators. They were like everyday versions of amusement park rides.

Adrian waved to a few co-workers as he went past their offices. They were all getting ready to leave, too. There was Aaron, and Erin, who by association and necessity spent a lot of time together. There was Hannah, and Jake. Adrian made a point of making eye contact and saying bye to each one.

Eventually, he made it to the parking lot. Some of the spaces were empty, but most were full. His car, a red rundown old Honda with a crack across the windshield, was wedged tightly between two enormous SUVs. He got in, started the engine, and carefully eased her out.

Adrian had once heard that people tend not to notice everyday things. Tourists are the only ones impressed by the Niagara Falls; residents tend not to care. Most of the people in Seattle never set foot in the Space Needle. As he rode home, he smiled at the beauty of the rhododendron bushes beside the road, violent sprays of purple with light tinges of pink. Everything was so green here, like a giant salad, and nobody seemed to notice.

On the way home, he stopped off at a little mini-mall and parked the car. He stuck the backpack in the trunk, locked the car, and walked over to a flower-shop. As he opened the door, a little bell jingled. _tingalingalingaling_. To Adrian, it sounded uncertain, far off, a little sad, yet strong. Off to the left, the open floral display refrigerator hummed softly. Above it, on the wall, a calendar proclaimed the month. The first was X'd out.

A youngish blonde woman managed to lounge while standing somewhere behind the cash register. "Hiya! What can I do fer ya?"

Adrian smiled widely. "A dozen red roses, please, extra special cauz I love her and I want her to marry me."

"Sure thing!" She turned and flounced into the back. Adrian waited, rapped his fingers lazily on the countertop, and looked over at the refrigerator. Flowers of all sorts in various stages of bloom adorned the fridge, but the roses had a special spot in the middle, near the bottom. There were red, pink, white, yellow and – wait, did roses even come in that color? Sure enough, there were bright purple roses there, off in the left corner, mocking the world in lavender and impossibility. Adrian walked over slowly and fingered the petals. He looked at his hand, but there wasn't any dye on it. Yep, these roses were really purple all right. She'd love that. Diane had always loved the color purple.

The blonde flower girl came back. "Jess you wait a sec. Got us a new delivery out back, an all th' flowers are all wrapped up."

"That's all right. I'd like these, please." He indicated the purple roses and winked.

"Alright." She walked over and wrapped up the flowers in a plastic bouquet, flashed him a mischievous smile, and snatched a few sprigs of tiny purple dots from another display. She arranged them among the roses, then sauntered over to behind the counter and pulled a tiny card and card holder from a drawer. She passed him the card and a pen. "There ya go."

He paused, then drew a simple, single heart on the card and handed it back to her. She glanced at the card, then smiled. "Awww. What's her name?"

"Diane."

"Hold on. Somewhere around here…" She pulled two little cards out from behind the counter. "There. Show 'er a good time."

She passed him the cards. Each was for a Free Cheesecake Factory Slice O' Joy.

"I'm not going to take her out for cheesecake!" he protested

"Well, now ya can!"

"But she isn't-"

"Come on."

"I-"

"Not gonna hear it. Give it to yer friends, then."

He paused, then said softly "Thank you."

Adrian paid for the roses and left. He walked out to his car and hit a button on the key fob. The car chirped in response. He then opened the right hand door and placed the roses on the seat. Water seeped out along the bare stems and out the plastic bouquet sheet. He closed the door and walked around to the other side, opened the driver-side door and got in. He started up the car, and drove off, humming a song under his breath.

Soon, he passed into a quieter part of town, where the buildings were shorter, but richer and more luxurious. The grass looked as if it belonged on a golf course. After a while, even the houses gave way to large gated yards. He stopped the car by one of these, parking on the road by the entrance. Adrian got out and walked around to the passenger side door, then pulled on the handle. The purple roses lay resplendent on the seat. The water made a dark stain on the gray fabric. He paused contemplatively, and then picked up the flowers.

Adrian shut the door and locked the car. Then he walked up the few feet to the big, ornate, iron gate. Ivy climbed up the crumbling stone walls, and black, decorative iron ivy intertwined itself with the gate. He pushed it open and walked in.

There was a path, and on either side of it was more golf course grass, perfectly manicured. Overhead, various flowering trees hung, lending shade and solitude to the path. Adrian paused at a fork. He knew where he wanted to be, but was vaguely unsure of how to get there. After a moment's pause, he turned left.

Eventually he came to it. Really, it couldn't have been a better spot. The smooth lawn lent a soft carpet to the ground. Above, a cherry tree hung softly in full bloom. In the shade of the tree sat a small marble slab, embedded in the ground. Adrian knelt at the slab and laid the roses across it. He traced out the words engraved upon the stone.

Diane Ametrine

1979 – 2008

"Cauz I love you and I want you to marry me," he whispered.

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><p><strong>AN: Ok. So, I think this story is absolute brilliance in its highest form. TheBroadE decided to ask me to edit this for her, and then told me that I could post it - with proper due credit to the real author. It is entitled 'Roses,' and, again, with proper due credit, I intend to utilise this main character in one of my other works, only with the following exceptions: **

**Firstly, my Adrian shall have a rather artistic bent, and, secondly, and, perhaps, more importantly, my Diane shall be entirely alive. And probably I shall shift the ages (wow. That sounds portentious). ****Apologies again for failing to post. I would blame my flatmate, but, really, I can't. **


	2. I Am Come

**A/N: This is the OC Scrapbook. It contains previews. This is a preview to something I'm going to write later, and am currently thinking very hard about. I might change some things. Actually, I WILL change things. Everything is subject to my disgression. And, no, it's not supposed to make any sense. **

**Update: I realised FFdotNet decided to destroy my formatting. I've placed these strange line-things in to denote the end and beginning of each stanza, but it's not precisely the way I would have liked to handle it. I guess I'll have to make do for now, though. **

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><p><span>The Diamond Rain<span>

I hear the diamond raindrops

That fall upon the earth

A four-part melody. But like the god I am

I quell the rain, for

I am come.

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><p>Why can't you see? The sky is full of diamonds<p>

And ever they fall, like rain, upon the sea.

Crystal meet crystal, wet eyes and weary feet

I have walked this earth

This dusty road.

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><p>The world is a system of gears of light<p>

And force and motion and sound

Sometimes even thought.

All it takes is a single push.

Make the world go round.

Why can't you see?

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><p>In the halls of the bind are a thousand mirrors.<p>

They like to taste the glass.

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><p>Feel the wind and taste the air<p>

Feel the rain on skin.

Do I feel the rain, or do I turn the crank

And make the wheels go round

Or am I the ever-falling diamond rain? I can't remember

I can't remember anymore

I can't-

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><p>When does the rain fall? Why does the wind blow?<p>

It's just an idiot's mutterings

A sound and a rage and a scream against the heavens

Blown away, lost forever.

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><p>Whoever I was and whoever I shall be<p>

All the faces stare back

But they are not mine.

What happens? What is going on?

Something's wrong in the world, can't you feel it?

Can't you see?

Because we are not the same.

We are not the same.

We are not the same.

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><p>The cries fall on deaf ears<p>

And the wind does not listen anymore

I tried to help you. Why can you not see?

I'll make you see. I'll make you understand

You need to be fixed. You need to be made well.

Perhaps then will the drums be silent

And nevermore demand their quiet muse.

You shall beg me for my help, you shall see

And I may be merciful

I'll make you listen. I'll show you now.

Like the air and the earth, they will obey me.

Like the sun and the rain

Like a vengeful god I am come

No second chances. No firsts.

We are not the same. Not anymore.

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><p>I am come.<p> 


	3. The Master's Song

**A/N: Following in the vein of my previous Scrapbook piece, I sort of had to write this one. Plus, it demonstrates that I CAN actually use a rhyme scheme and metre and verse. This character (who is actually a modified version of the Master, sort of, but not really) will probably never grace the pages of my work, but I think it's a bit of a terrifying poem. And an interesting read. Enjoy. **

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><p>Now I lay me down to sleep<br>I pray the Lord my soul to keep  
>I want to wake up in the day<br>Near, at least, the spot I lay  
>My soul is turning back<br>My mind is turning black  
>I don't know if I hid<br>the body of that kid  
>Something ancient's in my mind<br>I wake up somewhere and I find  
>a knife in hand and blood all round<br>someone dead's upon the ground  
>It's true, I'm innocent this day!<br>They don't believe me anyway  
>Twinkle, twinkle, little star<br>How I wonder what you are  
>It's late, I need to get to bed<br>and stop the drumming in my head  
>Up above the world so high<br>They crawl into the ground and die  
>or is it not that way around<br>They're dead before they're in the ground  
>With their smiles and their smirks<br>and their shuffles and their lurks  
>Now, frozen, silenced, in the ground<br>and no more voices all around  
>And I can breathe and sleep again<br>Till they deserve it once again  
>again, again, again, again,<br>again  
>and again<br>and again  
>and again...<p>

Now, I lay me down to sleep  
>I pray the Lord my soul to keep<br>And if I die before I wake  
>I pray the Lord their souls to take<p> 


	4. Binge

**A/N: Aplogies for not posting yesterday. And, I give you this poem as apologies for not posting tomorow, and a sort of explanation. **

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><p>This is not a tale of strength<p>

The summer of Nineteen Ninety-Six

We broke the world in two, you and I

And ever after were friends

I, the prodigy no more

And you, never the prodigy at all

But a touch of genius about those lips

And somewhere in the habits was a spark

I stared at life like the bubble about me

But you were always ever immersed

Why was I always in the attic?

Why couldn't I speak? The stuttering one

Always detached, ever alone

What is it like, I wonder

To never wonder about the world around you

What is it like to see nothing beyond the daily rote?

And yet uncaring they loved you

And I, the elder, left floundering in your wake

The summer of Twenty Oh-Seven

Broken down and breathing hard

And set just to endure

Crossing off days upon the calendar

First six months, then three, then one

The mantra hard upon my whispered lips

Softly sounded – six more, six more

Like a birdsound, till it became nothing more

A tale told my an idiot, filled with a sound and a fury

Signifying nothing, as a real Poet said

Another time left floundering in the wake

The Spring of Twenty Twelve

Hard worn days have broken me down

And every time it's just the same

Sitting in the kitchen, my soul upon the paper

And staring at the wall

Why must you come – why must I remember you so?

And why must the words keep coming?

Language is my skill – I weave it into special rope

And forge it into steel

And in my arrogance chide you,

My eloquence my shield, my fluency, my sword

And tied the phrases round you all.

We broke the world in two once

In greatness and of old. Now look at us

Just look at us now.


	5. Stagnant Time

Ripples and reflections in the water

But no life, no joy, no surprise.

We're greying at the edges

And dying slowly day by day

And silver ever did we trust

But in the end we did without again

The clock went: tick.

Staring time in the face is no easy task

And never did we see the end

Where did this comfortable aching stop

Of being still calm water

A perfect reflection greys at the edges

And falling leaves never did land

But for staring at the wall

I'm wishing I was there

But when I'm there, I'll be wishing I was here

Wishes are like fishes, though

A flash of silver scale

A ripple in the pond

But nothing to stop the still, calm, grey water

Just pour the agony of unbeing out

And waiting for the dead inspiration to leave

So never will I know

The wishes I can't see

And sit in stillness once again

Contented in the dead calm water

Still and stagnant, once it sits.

The clouded sky – greying for eternity.


End file.
